


Red Velvet

by SomewhereApart



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Camelot, F/M, Outlaw Queen Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 06:11:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16948497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereApart/pseuds/SomewhereApart
Summary: Robin and Regina gettin’ busy in Camelot, because who doesn’t like some sexy cape action? (For OQ week)





	Red Velvet

She has trouble sleeping. She always has, but now especially. Her dreams are all swirling darkness, and Emma’s face, and guilt, so much guilt.

She needs to work harder, work faster, needs to find some way to free Emma from this darkness before it consumes her whole.

So she has trouble sleeping. Sleeps fitfully, or not at all, and that’s how she finds herself in the courtyard tonight. Staring up at Merlin’s tree, willing it to give her some sort of answer. Some sort of sign of where to look, which way to go next.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Robin.

Regina lets out a sigh, some of her tension bleeding with it, his presence alone enough to soothe just a little bit of her frazzled mind.

Arms come around her middle, warm and inviting, and she shivers despite the warmth of her own cloak about her shoulders. Robin reaches for the edges of his, draws her into the warm, heavy velvet. She melts into him, still troubled but at least not alone in her worries for a little while.

“Talk to me, my love,” he urges pressing a kiss to the join of her neck and shoulder.

“I’m failing,” she confesses, the sound of denial he makes vibrating from his chest into her back.

“You’re not,” he insists. “You just haven’t succeeded yet, that’s all. But you will. You’ll find a way to rid Emma of the darkness, and then we’ll all go home.”

“You promise?” It’s unfair to ask that of him, because he can’t, she knows he can’t.

And yet, he does. Tells her, “I promise,” and she shakes her head at him, tells him he shouldn’t make promises he can’t keep. So he amends to, “I believe in you, milady. As I always have.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she says nothing, and for a while they stand there in silence, wrapped up in their cloaks, Regina staring up at the bark and branches that conceal their best hope for salvation. If only she could figure out how to peel back all those layers.

Robin doesn’t share her frustration. He stands by her, supports her, but he believes in her implicitly, and so he doesn’t share her helplessness. Her guilt. His mind is not so plagued with worry, so she supposes she shouldn’t be surprised when one warm hand goes from holding his cloak closed around them to stroking the length of her belly, the curve of her hip. Regina reaches for the edge of his cloak, pulls it closed herself to cocoon their warmth, their privacy.

He takes that as encouragement (it was, she supposes), leaving her to hold both sides closed as his other hand joins the lazy exploration as well. She’s gotta give Camelot one thing – it’s great for lovers. Robin has hardly been able to keep his hands off her, when modesty and health and time have allowed. He says it’s the dress, the velvet, the smooth softness of it, and the way it hugs her curves. Says it drives him to distraction even more than her corsets, the piled cleavage of her No-Longer-So-Evil Queen fashions. (He’d favored velvet then, too, she recalls. She’d had a few velvet gowns, a blue backless one in particular that had left him gobsmacked – she remembers taunting him for finally being able to keep his mouth shut in a council meeting.)

She feels him sigh against her, feels the warmth of his breath on her neck, the press of his chest into her back. His hands grow bolder, slipping up, cupping her breasts through the velvet and drawing his thumbs in lazy passes over her nipples. Regina licks her lips, warmth pooling low in her belly.

Robin’s voice is quiet and warm, smooth like the velvet of her dress, his cloak, as he offers, “Let me ease your mind, my love.”

Her mind could use some easing. And his thumbs are doing things, tight circles on increasingly sensitive nipples, a subtle but exquisite pleasure that has her thighs clenching. So she nods, swallows and asks, “Where did you put Roland down?”

They’re sharing quarters, the two of them, Henry and Roland in an adjacent room. But his son has been clingy the last few days, has wanted to sleep with his father, so she’s unsure whether their bed is child-free, or whether she needs to transport them somewhere a bit more private.

“He’s in his bed,” Robin murmurs into her neck, the soft prickliness of his beard against her skin chasing goosebumps down her spine. “But I want you here. Under the stars.”

Regina lifts a brow, turns to look at him. “Here in the courtyard? Anyone could happen by.”

“It’s late,” he dismisses, one hand skating down, down, down, cupping between her thighs, rubbing her through velvet and silk. _Oh_. His eyes dance with mischief when he adds, “We can keep our cloaks on. It’s a bit cold tonight anyway, hmm?”

Regina bites her lower lip, glancing around, but the place really is more or less deserted. There are sentries, the night watch, but they passed by not long before Robin appeared. They won’t be back for a while now. And sure, there are windows that look onto the courtyard, still shining with the light of candelabras and lanterns, but the tree will provide cover enough…

“Alright,” she acquiesces, her lips tugging into a sly smile, and she hopes sincerely that Merlin is unaware of what is happening outside his leaves and bark. If not, he’s about to get quite a show.

Robin’s hand grows more insistent, stroking and rubbing, worming its way deeper into her thighs, and Regina widens her stance just slightly to give him better access. His fingers find her clit, the contact dulled pleasantly through the material of her dress, just as his mouth finds that sensitive place at the back of her jaw. She lets out a little sound, a soft whine, and feels him smile before he returns to sucking warm kisses there.

“No marks,” she warns breathlessly, and he grunts his agreement, strokes and strokes her, and oh, it’s so soft. Velvet-lined, silk-coated touches, a soft, rolling friction that has her wet, wetter, so wet. Her breath starts to heave, the muscle of her thigh tremoring just so, and oh God, she’s going to come before he even gets her dress off.

His tongue starts meandering trails along her neck, raising goosebumps but from pleasure and the delightful chill of cool night air on damp skin.

Regina sighs his name, fists clutching tightly at the edges of his cloak, hips starting to rock and grind. He’s hard against her rear, she can feel him through his leathers, a promising pressure against her rear. God, she wants him inside her. _Now._

But her clit is throbbing, and so sensitive, and she’s soaked and slippery, and his mouth is doing wonderful things that she can’t bear to stop.

“I love you, my darling,” he whispers warmly between kisses, and her belly tremors. Oh, so close. She breathes _Love you, too_ , and then he’s urging her to, “Let go for me. Let me see how much I please you, my love. You’re so beautiful when you come, show me.”

God, oh God, he knows how much she likes the talking, the compliments, his warm timbre of his voice as she approaches her peak, and tonight is no different, he keeps whispering to her, keeps touching and petting as she rocks and rocks, and then she’s moaning, knees shaking, his arm suddenly strong around her waist as she jerks and comes and comes, his fingers relentless in their sweet torture.

When her moans turn to whimpers, he cups her gently, nips at the side of her neck, and declares her, “Gorgeous.”

“Robin…” she breathes, her veins buzzing, a feeling like starlight in her limbs, and oh, “That was…”

“Just the appetizer,” he assures, walking her further toward the trunk of the tree, and if she stumbles the first step or two, he doesn’t comment.

Regina turns in his grasp, the warmth of their velvet cocoon dissipating as his cloak falls back around him alone, her arms winding around his neck, and then they’re kissing in earnest, all heat, all tongue. Her back hits the trunk with a soft _oof_ , hands wandering, tugging linen from leather, fumbling with his button and zip, while his own gather velvet up and up, baring her calves, her knees, bunching around her thighs.

She reaches into his pants, wraps her fingers around him for a single, teasing stroke, and he groans. He’s hard, so hard, and thick and she feels herself clench in anticipation. His forehead presses to hers and they breathe the same air for a moment, her grip sliding lazily, up and down, up and down. Robin’s hands grasp at her hips.

“You need to stop that, milady,” he urges reluctantly, “or I’ll not be able to continue the, ah… feast.”

He says it in a way that makes it quite clear just where he’ll be feasting, and as much as heat streaks through her at the thought of him with his tongue between her thighs, she needs something more tonight.

“Maybe we could skip straight to the main course,” Regina suggests, biting at his lower lip and then her own.

She watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows heavily, and then he’s nodding, and tugging her down to the ground. She thought he’d take her against the tree, but this isn’t so bad, especially when he stretches himself out on the cool grass and urges her to straddle him.

“I want to see you,” he rasps, tugging pointedly at her dress.

Regina turns her heads lightly toward the lighted castle windows. It’s one thing to have an illicit rendezvous under the stars and leaves where anyone could (but probably won’t) happen by. It’s another to do it in her birthday suit. Plus, it’s chilly.

Robin must be thinking the same things, because he reaches for her cloak, straightening it and drawing it forward until it drapes over her shoulders properly. “Leave this on.”

An easy solution, she supposes, and so with a quick wave of her hand and a swirl of purple smoke, they’re but bare except for their capes, Robin’s cushioning his back and her knees, her own covering her back and pooling around her knees.

“I want to see you too,” she tells him with a smirk. Robin just grins, adjusting her cape again slightly, opening it a little more no doubt for a better view. The velvet shifts like a whisper against her skin, smooth and still warm from their bodies. Cool air sneaks beneath the protection of the velvet, but it’s not cold, per se. She’s still comfortable.

They waste no time, _she_ wastes no time, reaching down between them and dragging the tip of his cock through her wetness (he groans, he always groans when she does this, eyes dropping shut, and she loves it, loves the little thrill of power – not darkness, just something feminine and strong and wonderful), before sinking down slowly on top of him. Taking him inside. It steals her breath, the slow stretch, the pleasant fullness; he’s not the only one groaning.

Robin’s hands find her hips, warm and steady, his thumbs stroking along her hipbones, but he doesn’t urge, doesn’t encourage. Let’s her savor and situate, waits for her until she begins to rock her hips to and fro atop him. She keeps him deep inside, swirls and grinds, and his jaw drops open, but his gaze stays steady on her, watching her torso, her breasts and belly as she takes her pleasure from him. Her cloak moves against her skin like a caress, soft and sensual, tightening her nipples, raising goosebumps along her arms.

“So gorgeous,” he moans, fingers squeezing on her hips, and right now, under the stars, draped in velvet and moonlight, she feels it. He licks his lips and swallows heavily again, his gaze dropping to where they’re joined.

If the talking gets her hot, the watching makes her burn for him, the intensity in his eyes as he takes in the sight of them, of her, and she wants to give him a better show. For the first time in her life, with Robin, she doesn’t feel displayed like a trophy or a piece of meat, but exhibited, like a piece of art, and she wants him to look and see and admire.

So she shifts from grinding on his cock to riding it, moving up and down slowly, his hands tightening to help guide her, his face shifting into something helpless and besotted. She loves this, loves being with him, loves the way he looks at her, like she’s everything, like he cannot get enough of her, of them, of being like this, and for a moment the loving of him distracts her from the _loving_ of him. She watches him take her in, her heart beating madly, and then his gaze flicks up to hers and he smiles.

She smiles back, feels it split her whole face, and then she’s leaning forward, down, sinking onto her elbows so she can kiss him, his torso cool against hers but warming quickly as they’re once again cloaked in velvet.

She doesn’t stop the movement of her hips, kisses and kisses him but keeps taking him in and out, in and out, the angle different now, but no less pleasant. In fact, it’s very, _very_ pleasant, come to think of it. Her nipples graze against his chest with every pitch and roll, her clit grinding deliciously in tandem. It’s _good_ , so good, she might just say here a while, just like this, kisses growing sloppier as his pleasure mounts higher.

And then he shifts a little beneath her, knees bending, hands grasping tight to her hips before he bucks up into her. Pleasure blooms out in a wave, wrenching his mouth from her on a gasping moan. _Oh, God_.

“Is this alright, my love?” he rasps, and she nods fervently.

“More than alright.” Her voice is breathless, husky. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. Holds onto her hips and takes her from below in deep, hard thrusts, his hips slapping against her clit with every impact, and oh, oh God, oh, _God_ …

They’re pressed together forehead-to-forehead, his breath huffing against her cheek, her soft cries reverberating in the space between them, and the air beneath her cloak grows humid and warm, the velvet against her like a second pair of hands, stroking, caressing as he pounds and pounds and takes her faster, faster.

She can’t hold back the delirious shout when she comes, clenching hard on the length of him. He lets out this low, throaty sound of appreciation that she barely hears through the haze of her own ecstasy, and then he’s fucking her harder, harder, faster, deeper, and then not at all, holding her tight to him as he spills into her with a grunt of relief.

Regina collapses boneless on top of him, her belly sweaty now against his, her head tucked in the crook between neck and shoulder. His chest rises and falls, panting lightly just as she is, and for a few blissful moments, Regina’s brain is utterly clear. Wiped clean, and unbothered. She’s all sensation. Blood pumping pleasantly beneath her skin, Robin’s hands in soothing caresses along her back, and the warm cocoon of her cloak around them.

It’s almost enough that she could sleep, she thinks, her eyelids growing heavy as Robin turns his head to press a soft kiss to her brow. She feels languid and boneless. Sated. Relaxed.

He hears it before she does, the voices, his body stiffening slightly beneath hers.

“My love,” he whispers, and she _Mm?_ s, and lifts her head. And then she hears it too, eyes going wide and impish for a moment.

A wave of her wrist, a swirl of smoke, and they’re back in their bedchambers, sprawled across the four-poster.

Regina sheds her cloak and crawls under the covers immediately, desperately clinging to that edge of sleep she’d had a hold on moments ago. Robin follows just after, curling around her back, drawing her in to his warmth.

She falls asleep to the slow, ticking rhythm of his fingertips tracing along her bicep, and tonight, she stays that way until dawn.


End file.
